Darker Shadows
by 3quency
Summary: I intend this to be an episodic-type thingy that will go on until I'm bored of it. I feel uncomfortable centering on Garret his story's been told so I made up a contact of his who will be the protagonist. The story opens a month after Deadly Shadows...
1. Chapter 1

Thief Fanfic

I don't own Thief, or any of the trademarked characters or places, I doubt anyone on this site does.

The bell tolled thrice.

Murky fog weaved its way through the twisting towers and dark graveyards of the city. Somewhere a watchman was heard to state; 'Three o'clock and all's argh' before falling permanently silent.

Varney stood out by the statue of saint Ventor, freezing his arse off. His grip tightened around his poorly made blackjack, nothing more than a piece of wood with a leather grip.

_My feet hurt _he thought to himself as he glanced across the roofs to the distant clock tower for the third time that evening. He wished he'd brought a dagger or something sharp, as bad as he was a burglar, he was infinitely worse a fighter, but he would rather have something to cut with. Not a sword though, he couldn't use one to save his life (which is what he'd probably need one for).

As he thought for the fifth time that night that this had been a wind up, a clear voice broke the silence;

'Sorry I'm late.'

Varney span, attempting to draw the blackjack, but it just got caught in his belt and he landed smartly on the floor, banging his coccyx.

'By the hells, Garret you scared the shit outta me.' The other man shifted. 'Not my problem you're scared of the dark, Varney. Now, I came here to talk, not watch you make an idiot of yourself.' All Varney could see of him was half a pale face and a glowing green eye, partly obscured by a hood.

'What do you want?' Varney asked his companion, who looked at Varney (_his stare is sodding creepy_) for a minute before replying, 'Actually, you may not be up for this.'

'What? Course I am! You remember the Moors manor job, right? I did great, whatever you need, info, a break in-' 'I need you to look after something.' Garret interrupted.

'What? I can handle _that_, no problem.'

Garret looked disbelieving, but in a fluid motion he held out a pale hand, small bag nestled in the palm.

'This is just for a few days, I need to do some work, and can't afford for it to be taken. Don't open it.'

Varney nodded mutely, taking the bag from his friend and pocketing it.

'Thought you didn't do tattoos.' Varney mentioned, looking at the hand.

Garret held it up to the light, showing the key branded onto the back.

'I don't.' this was not the only new thing Varney had noticed about Garret. He had a different walk somehow, as if he carried a tremendous weight on his shoulders.

Before he could say anything however, a screech echoed. The beating of wings was heard in the tiny square as a tawny owl flew purposefully to Garret, landing on an outstretched (_How does he move without me noticing?_) arm.

Garret pulled a roll of vellum off the bird's leg and read it.

'Orland, you idiot, they can't have.' Garret breathed with shock.

'Hold on,' Varney questioned, 'Who's Orland?'

Garret looked at Varney with an expression of tired annoyance. 'Varney, you know I told you there are some things you're better off not knowing? This is one of them.'

Varney was not happy with this response, but accepted it. Be fore he could get another word in, Garret had vanished.

_I __hate__ it when he does that. _Varney looked around the square for a last time, before heading for home. It would be a long walk back to Stonemarket.

***

Varney was sat on his moulding bed in the cramped apartment building overlooking Terces courtyard and stared at the bag.

_What Garret doesn't know, won't hurt him right? _Varney looked around the room as a matter of instinct, wincing as he turned to sharply left, feeling his old scar spasm as he did so. Of course no one was there, the watchman he shared the room with wouldn't be back until seven and it had been months since anyone else had been in the room.

He propped his tired feet on the end of the bed and pulled the sack open.

It contained what looked like a small ruby but closer inspection revealed it to be a red metallic disc (_I've got to stop thinking about rubies all the damn time) _with some form of symbol on it. He didn't recognize it, but it looked like some form of language. Maybe he knew someone who would.

***

Garret slid through the streets of the city, unseen and unheard. He barely even needed to extinguish the torches any more since he'd returned to the Keepers.

There'd been some major changes after the brethren and betrayer incident, the organization took a more direct view of city affairs now, he had explained the sense in this at the council meeting, this time without fixing the vote.

He opened a glyph door and slipped through to Butchers Boulevard. Heading down towards the slaughter pens, he wrinkled his nose as it was assailed by the stench of offal and death. Past the pens, was a small circular space between the buildings, a blocked well at its centre.

An old keeper was stood by the well. Ever since the Hag debacle he had use a walking stick as some injuries just won't heal. As Garret ghosted towards him, he readjusted his glasses before turning to the thief.

'Well at least you turned up.'

'I don't make a habit of being late, Orland.' Garret replied, sheathing his dagger once he was sure it was the head Keeper. 'I thought you'd finally given me acceptance, not suspicion.'

'You left me to die at the foot of the museum, Garret, and failed to rescue me from the drunkard's lock up I was transported to. You stole my most valued objects and sold them so now I can't get them back. You killed our guards, beat several Keepers unconscious and ruined the sanctuary. Others seem to have forgotten this. My acceptance you have. My forgiveness, you must earn.'

'Easy, old man.' Garret said, calmingly. 'We all lost friends to the Hag. Even me.'

Orland sighed, and pulled his hand down his face. It had been a stress full month.

'I asked to meet here about the cult. They may be on the move.'

'What? It's far too soon for them to take action. They still haven't perfected the ritual.'

Orland nodded. 'True but they've gotten wind of us. The acolyte we assigned is dead. I think they're panicking.'

Garret cursed. 'What do we know?' 'That they have members in the workers the Hammers hired. We found the acolyte's torso at the top of the new clock tower. I hope you placed the glyph with someone we can trust. The cult has roots everywhere. Even in the watch.'

Garret raised an eyebrow. 'We'd best move then.'

A lone citizen wandered nervously past the well. There was nothing there but wind and shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Yay! continuation! No one cares but what the hell, I'll post it any way.

BTW: Like I said before, I don't own this game as far as I know.

Varney wandered through the busy streets, chewing on a pastry he'd bought earlier. He was getting strange looks and a wide birth but inhabitants of Auldale were always like that. He strode up the steps to the museum, heading straight for the dead cultures department. He noticed an unusual amount of guards in the corridors and outside, obviously due to the robbery that had taken place.

The security designers still hadn't regained their reputation, and the museum no longer trusted them.

As he wandered around the rooms, he examined the various artefacts in the glass cases before a hand on his shoulder told him he'd found her.

'Before you do _anything _you should know that yes, those are valuable and yes, you cannot touch them.' A voice behind him reprimanded in a friendly tone. Varney turned to face the woman and smiled.

'It's good to see you too Sacha. How have you been?' she smiled at him. 'Not bad, thanks. What do you want from me today then?' Varney laughed.

'Oh, so I only see my family if I want things from them now?' Sacha punched his shoulder playfully.

'Yes, you're a horrible brother and a bad person. Now what can I help you with?'

Varney sighed dramatically, and withdrew the disc, holding it in front of Sacha.

She snatched it and ran her fingers over the symbol, turning it over.

'Interesting. Where did you steal this?'

'I didn't steal it!' Varney exclaimed, affronted. 'I'm looking after it for a friend.'

'Right… Friend. Anyway, it's like nothing I've seen before. It's positively ancient, Varney. From what I can tell it seems to be religious though. Not a Hammer toy, and it's too well manufactured for the Pagans. Your friend has made an interesting find.'

He snatched it back from her. 'Thanks, Sacha. That sort of helped.'

As he left the museum a number of thoughts were turning over in his head.

Where had Garret found it? Were these religious types it belonged to after him? If they were, would they know who Varney was? Acting as Garret's accomplice over the years had not earned him great respect in the underworld, especially amongst the thieves' guild that had tried to get to Garret through him and others several times before.

He hadn't really been paying attention to his direction, always a mistake in the City, and had ended up in the eastern end of stone market, the poorer part of the district.

Walking down these streets alone was like creeping through a Hammer Haunt feeding ground soaked in barbecue sauce.

But apparently, the man up ahead didn't know that.

He was just walking alone, in a fancy robe that screamed RICH to everyone nearby, humming a jovial tune and swinging a bejewelled staff casually.

It was the target every mugger dreamed of.

Varney followed him discreetly down one of the alleyways, dagger in hand as he crept up behind the man and said 'okay, friend. No sudden moves and give me that staff.'

The man stopped.

'You know what I loath in this City?' he enquired, in a tone that _really _should have been scared but wasn't.

'The Thieves mostly. And the muggers. You know,' he turned and clubbed Varney in the face, teeth shattered and Varney dropped to the ground, shocked.

'I believe I do hate people who have something I want even more.'

He knelt by Varney, and searched his pockets, withdrawing the Disc.

'Fascinating. It appears the Keepers were almost intelligent with their choice of hiding place.'

The man stalked off, dragging Varney's unconscious form behind him.

Garret swept down the street, melting into the shadows of Black alley as deftly as a shark through water.

He walked straight past the wanderers who found themselves in the alley before being mugged, and stepped through Perry's door.

'Garret? Taff! Didn't expect to see you here-'

'Shut your mouth Perry before I do it.' Garret interrupted, hand over his fence's gluttonous mouth.

'I'm looking for Varney. He been this way tonight?'

Perry pushed Garret's hand away and coughed, gasping for air.

'No. He never comes down this way 'less he's looking for you. Why?'

Garret swore and stormed out of the shop, disappearing into the shadows and heading back the way he'd came.

Pausing only to rob a metal worker's place he'd had his eye on for a while, he made his way towards the Sanctuary.

Orland needed to know.

The cult had all they needed.

Unless he stopped them.


End file.
